The Artist
by Na1n
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo was an artist—an artist who struggled with "agalmatophilia". In other words, the artist and his love were strange. His love was a life-like doll he had created with his own hands. He named her Rukia. IchiRuki. AU. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **_**Hello, hello! Here, I bring you an odd twist to one of my favorite pairings. IchiRuki. I'm not sure if I will continue this, so I will rely on the reviews to guide me. So, if you will, please tell me what I should do next. This was posted on Tumblr before I finally decided to publish it.**

_**Warnings: A tad bit dark and odd. Just stay with me xD**_

_Part 01- Take in Words or All My Thoughts_

The artist's steady brush slowly dipped into the crimson red lipstick. Making sure nothing dripped from the tip, he turned back to his love. A smooth swipe across her bottom and upper lip had him smiling in joy. This was the perfect color. Using the curb of his thumb, he wiped the excess around her lips away.

"There? How's that? It's the perfect color for you, isn't it?" He gave a bright smile, leaning forward to kiss her pale, smooth cheek.

As usual, she gave no reply and he continued on, still smiling. Grabbing the compact of blush and eye shadow, he slowly and expertly applied both. The man chose a subtle pink blush, applying it to her cheekbones. He then applied a shimmering white eye shadow on her lids to highlight her beautiful violet hues.

"All done!" he exclaimed. "I tried my best this time! I even bought the most expensive make up, just for you. I got funny stares at the store, but it was worth it." The artist laughed amongst himself.

Once again, she did not reply.

His laughter quieted down slowly, as so did his smile fall. Wrapping his arms around her still form, he hugged her, burying his face into her neck. "I'm sad, Rukia. My family never talks to me anymore," he mumbled. "All I have is you, Rukia."

Kurosaki Ichigo was an artist—an artist who struggled with "agalmatophilia". In other words, the artist and his love were strange. His love was a life-like doll he had created with his own hands. Of course, he did nothing sexual with his "Rukia", no. Ichigo merely enjoyed her company in his home as he worked on his different paintings.

He never thought of himself as crazy or insane, just lonely. Though, learning of his "issue", Ichigo's family completely shunned him, as well as his friends.

All he had was Rukia.

Pulling away, he stared into her lifeless eyes and once more smiled. Only Rukia showed him true kindness. "Okay! Ready for the surprise I have for you, Rukia? C'mon, c'mon, it's in the kitchen!"

Maneuvering a hand under her legs and on her back, Ichigo lifted the doll into his arms, carrying her from their bedroom and into the kitchen. There, he had prepared a lovely dinner of cheap ramen. Ichigo even decorated the table and lit a candle.

"The food's not the best, but you know me," he explained, "I'm horrible with cooking things."

Seating her in a chair across from him, placing her arms in her lap, Ichigo gave an overjoyed grin. He then sat himself across from her. "I know you don't like to eat, so I don't mind if you don't touch your food."

With that, Ichigo began eating his steaming ramen, occasionally leading a one-sided conversation with Rukia, telling her his ideas of his newest paintings. Even after he had finished, he talked and talked. However, a yawn soon escaped his lips and Ichigo realized it was already late.

"Eh? It's bedtime already? You should have warned me, Rukia," he commented. Rising from his seat, Ichigo swiftly cleaned up the table, blowing out the candles and throwing away the ramen cups.

Once more, her hefted Rukia into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom, setting her down on the bed. "Hold on for a moment. I'll go get your make up remover and your nighttime clothes."

Returning with said items, he gently caressed her cheek as he removed all traces of the powder and glossy lipstick. Then, the artist removed her simple flowery dress, replacing it with a cream-colored nightgown. It was nothing revealing. Rukia wasn't that type of girl.

Ichigo then removed all clothing, with the exception of his boxers. With a soft smile, he tucked his love beneath the covers, removing a strand of cropped black hair from her face. He switched off the lights before diving beneath the blankets beside her.

"I love you, Rukia."

Oh, how he wished she would say the same to him.


	2. VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Hey, guys, uh, I know some of you are probably confused right now. Yes, I've deleted both Chapters 2 and 3. I know this is odd because I just published the third earlier today. However, I've been unhappy with how the plot has been. I'd planned on this being more dark, and it's not giving off that vibe so I'm going to revisit the plot and change it around. I didn't intend for this to remind people of Pinocchio. Yeah, I wasn't very happy with those comments.

I'm going to be talking to Peridot0814 about the plot and they're gonna help me. If you guys have any suggestions on the revision, please, send them my way!

Thanks!

Kira.


	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

**Haha, back again!**

**Okay, so this is how this is gonna work out. ****The Artist**** is now going to be nothing more than a one-shot. HOWEVER, I have revised the plot and turned it into a full-length fic titled ****My Muse, My Obsession****. It is now uploaded and ready to read! Sorry to those who actually liked the plot before. If you have any questions or confusions, please message me.**

**Thanks for sticking with me and please read the new fic!**

**Kira.**


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